Phasmophobia
by LunaClefairy
Summary: Definition: The irrational fear of ghosts. It's something I've lived with every day for years. Stupid, I know, considering ghosts don't exist…or so I thought. Then that ghost kid showed up, and my whole world fell to pieces.
1. The Beginning

**The Beginning**

I stood in front of the infamous double doors of Casper High, inhaling deeply. It wasn't because I was nervous. Okay, that's a lie, I _was_ nervous. Terrified, actually. This was the first time I'd been in a public school since the fourth grade, after all. Mom had homeschooled me ever since The Incident, but this year she finally put her foot down, saying that the stuff I should be learning was beyond her abilities, and that it was high time I went out and made some friends.

Traitor.

If I had to be honest, the chances of me making friends at this point was pretty much zero. I was too tall and skinny for a girl my age; I was even taller than some of the guys. My pasty skin contrasted widely with my jet-black hair and dark green eyes, making me look like I was always sick. And let's face it; my modest chest wasn't going to draw the eyes of many boys.

But that was actually a good thing. I figured the best way I could get through this was to try and blend into the background and draw as little attention as possible. To become invisible, like…_a ghost_.

I winced and suppressed a shudder while I repeated the mantra my mom drove into my brain. _Ghosts don't exist. It's all in your head._

"Hey, girl! Ya gonna stand there all day?"

I yelped in shock and whirled around, spotting a group of students frowning in annoyance. I mumbled a quick apology to them and scurried inside the building, trying to ignore the heat that flooded my cheeks. This was just perfect. Way to make a first impression, Monica.

I pulled out a map showing the layout of the school and focused on it. It served a twofold purpose: I could navigate this place without getting lost, and I wouldn't have to look at the all the people who were doubtlessly staring at me. I drew eyes wherever I went. I mean, it's not every day you see a fourteen year old girl that's five foot six, so I can't really blame them, but it doesn't make it any less comfortable.

"_Who is that?"_

"_Must be one of the freshmen."_

"_What a beanpole!"_

"_She looks like the walking dead!"_

Ah, the typical "freaky new student" gossip. I spent the whole summer preparing for this after Mom told me she was enrolling me in public high school. I read _The Princess Diaries_ and all of its sequels, as well as several other books with similar settings. I watched approximately two dozen high school themed television shows. And I went through all the possible insults I could think of that would be directed at me in my head for hours at a time.

It seemed my training had paid off. The insults, whispers, and rumors bounced off of me. That "walking dead" statement stung a little bit, though. Not because of the insult itself, but because it reminded me of the times when I saw my own reflection and ran away screaming because I thought I saw a ghost in the mirror. Yes, it happened more than once.

See, if it wasn't obvious, I have…issues…with anything that seems even slightly ghostly. Phasmophobia, my therapist called it. I've had it ever since The Incident, and it took more than a year before I regained some semblance of normalcy. But my phobia never fully went away, which was how I managed to persuade Mom to homeschool me for so long. Despite her instance that ghosts were not real, I always feared I would be ambushed by one if I was by myself.

For the time being, I had managed to stave off any panic attacks with my mental mantra, but if anyone ever found out about my phobia, the pranking would never end. On the other hand, it may be enough to get Mom to homeschool me again, or at the very least transfer me somewhere else.

After a quick trip to my locker, it was time for my first class: English with Mr. Lancer. I could tell with one glance that he was one of those grumpy, strict types. I quietly slid into a seat at the back of the class, where my height would be less obvious, and no one could use me as an excuse for being unable to see the front.

The bell rang and class began. Mr. Lancer started with a roll call although it was clear he didn't really want to do it. He wouldn't get to my name for a while, so I grabbed my brand-new copy of _The DaVinci Code_ and began to read. Controversial as it was, it was something I had wanted to read for a while but had been unable to because of my summer training.

"Monica Winters," Mr. Lancer called out.

"Present," I replied in a bored tone as I flipped the page. The class immediately broke into heated whispers. I raised an eyebrow. Was I really that well-known? So much for blending in.

Mr. Lancer quieted the class with some rather passionate yelling, and then he began to cover the syllabus. It was pretty much a snooze-fest, and it certainly wasn't helped by Mr. Lancer's bored tone. After what felt like an eternity, the bell rang again, signaling the end of class. The whispers about me resumed in full force, and I rolled my eyes in irritation. I hoped this wouldn't be a regular occurrence. On my way out the door, though, I was stopped when I heard my name called in a light Spanish accent.

"So _you're_ the famous Monica Winters."

I turned towards the voice and my eyes widened. I found myself staring at what could only be described as a Latina babe. She was gorgeously tanned and perfectly proportioned, and her makeup and hair enhanced her natural looks to the point where she practically glowed. On top of all that, she shamelessly wore a pink shirt and blue capris that revealed her midriff and her perfect little naval. Heck, if I were a boy, I'd probably be drooling now. From the condescending smirk she wore, though, it was clear her beauty was only skin-deep.

"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" I asked.

A series of gasps rang out, mostly from the boys. "YOU DON'T KNOW PAULINA SANCHEZ?" they all yelled at the same time.

The girl, or rather Paulina, frowned. "Weren't you listening to the roll call?"

"Sort of," I shrugged. "I was only listening for my name. Everything else went in one ear and out the other. I wasn't planning on getting to know anyone besides the teachers."

More disbelieving gasps and muttering filled the air.

"Oh, can't handle public school?" Paulina sneered. "Want to run home to your homeschooling mama?"

At first, I was confused and scared. How did this girl know I was homeschooled? I definitely never told anyone about it, and neither had Mom. But then a lightbulb clicked on in my head. Even if Mom had never directly told anyone about my schooling, she probably still talked about me to her friends. Word would've gotten out about me and people must've noticed that I hadn't been attending public school and put two and two together.

I frowned. "What's it to you if I was homeschooled? I could still run academic circles around you."

"Is that a challenge?" Paulina asked as the crowd erupted with disbelief.

"Take it however you want," I scoffed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to my next class."

I stormed off, ignoring the heated discussion around me. It seems I had made enemies with the school's queen bee on day one. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I was not about to be walked over by some bimbo just because she had a pretty face.

The rest of my morning was relatively uneventful aside from the whispering and glances in my direction. My other morning classes were algebra and history, neither of which looked particularly challenging. Maybe this whole public high school thing wouldn't be so bad, at least when it came to my classes.

When lunchtime came around, though, things took a turn for the worse. When I arrived in the cafeteria, I saw that tables had already been claimed by the cliques. One was filled with who I could only assume were the popular kids, considering Paulina was there. Then there were the hippies, the goths, the academics, the D&D nerds, the bank geeks, and…an empty table! Perfect!

I hurried over to the free spot and unpacked my lunchbox. After a nasty case of food poisoning in third grade, I was reluctant to trust cafeteria food, but it seemed few students here shared my viewpoint. I held my sandwich in one hand and _The_ _DaVinci Code_ in the other. Dan Brown was one heck of a writer. I was having a really hard time putting the book down because he always ended his chapters on a cliffhanger!

Unfortunately for me, someone forced me to put the book down by swatting it out of my hand. Then, before I could blink, something hot and runny splattered all over my front. I looked down at my shirt in disbelief. Sloppy joe was covering my shirt and my lap. A pair of girls laughing caught my attention and I saw them saunter away towards the A-Listers' table as they yelled, "Later, loser!"

I fumed. They must've been in league with Paulina. Whether it was on her orders or just because they were friends with her, it didn't matter. I half-considered returning their "favor", but decided it wasn't worth it. Mom always drove into my head that I should never stoop to the level of my enemies. Reluctantly, I stood up and inspected the damage. It was nothing a good dose of Clorox couldn't fix, but I didn't have a change of clothes on me, so I knew everyone would be reminding me about this for the rest of the day.

I grabbed a bunch of napkins and sopped up the mess as best as I could. Fortunately, _The DaVinci Code_ had escaped the sloppy joe assault unharmed, but I had lost my page. With a sigh, I put the book away. If I was going to be ambushed by snobs, then reading in the cafeteria was out of the question.

"Wow, they got you bad, huh?" someone said.

"Yeah, they―HUH?"

Was a fellow student actually being half-decent to me? After what happened today, I was sure such a thing was impossible. But sure enough, when I turned around I saw not one, but three students giving me sympathetic looks. Based on the voice, I assumed it was the girl who had spoken. She was clearly goth from her attire, and she accompanied by two boys. One of them had to be a geek, and the other had no clear defining clique characteristics. Together, they formed the oddest trio I'd ever seen.

"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed. "How is it that a geek, an average Joe, and a goth are all friends? That's not how it's supposed to work!"

Goth Girl put her hands on her hips. "Oh, and I suppose you're the expert on who should be friends with who?"

"Uh…" I chewed on my lip. Hello foot, meet mouth. While I considered how to answer and get myself out of the awkward situation, the African American geek zipped towards me.

"Hey there," he said in a flirtatious tone. "You're that homeschooled girl, right? Name's Tucker Foley. But you can call me Tuck. Or TF, as in 'too fine'."

I stared. "Are you seriously hitting on me?"

Internally, I was panicking. Nothing in my summer training had prepared me for this! I mean, there were perverts and playboys in the TV shows and anime I watched, but I never thought I'd actually have to deal with one! What was I supposed to say? Fortunately, I was saved by Average Joe.

"Don't mind him. He does that to every girl he meets."

"I…see," I said. A thought suddenly occurred to me. "Oh! Were you three planning to sit here? I can, uh, find someplace else to eat."

"Way to creep her out, Tuck," mumbled Average Joe.

"What'd I say?" Tucker shot back.

While they were distracted, I crammed my lunch back in my lunchbox and bolted, shouting, "Sorry, gotta go!" I couldn't afford to have those three asking me about my past. There was only one thing for me to do: avoid them at all costs.

Once I was in a place where I was sure I was safe―a locked stall in the girl's restroom―I let myself catch my breath. Now I had a new problem, though. The Three Musketeers would be wondering what the heck was wrong with me and would confront me about it before long. I considered how I would deal with them and decided that the best way to drive them off was to put on the "Talk to me and die" attitude. Better for them to fear me or hate my guts than find out about my phobia.

I finished my lunch in the bathroom, which was honestly pretty gross, but I didn't want to go back to the cafeteria after making such a scene on my way out. Then I just read in the hallway until the bell rang. My next class was art, which was the only one I really was looking forward to. Drawing was one of my favorite hobbies, so when I saw that it was a possible elective, I picked it right away.

The art teacher was named Mrs. Hobbs, and I liked her almost as soon as she opened her mouth. She made crazy hand movements every time she spoke, and she was clearly passionate about her subject. She kept going off on tangents about famous artists or styles while discussing the syllabus, and we almost didn't end up covering the whole thing. When the bell signaled the end of class, I smiled, happy in the knowledge that my day would always have a bright spot.

That smile inverted the instant I remembered that my next class was P.E.

I am not athletic. At all. The only thing I can say I'm good at is running because of all the running away from imaginary ghosts I used to do. So the fact that I was forced to take a class where your physical fitness determined your grade really upset me. What's worse is that the teacher might as well have been a drill sergeant. She was ruthless. No syllabus here―she got us down and dirty right away with a game of dodgeball. I proceeded to fail epically by getting nailed over and over. Good-bye, GPA.

After that physically and mentally bruising experience, I wasn't looking forward to chemistry. Every inch of me ached, making it hard for me to focus. Luckily, the teacher, Mr. McGuffin, was just going over the usual syllabus stuff, so I toned him out and focused on reading _The DaVinci Code_.

The whole time, I got the feeling that someone was watching me. People had been giving me looks all day, but this was different. It felt more curious than condescending. From behind my book, I scanned the classroom for the culprit.

Score. Some boy with black hair two seats to my right kept sending nervous glances in my direction every few seconds. It almost looked like he wanted to tell me something but didn't have the guts to.

Oh, god. He didn't have a crush on me or something, did he? Being hit on once today was enough, thank you very much! I frowned and gave him the stink eye, warning him to back off. He flinched and returned his attention to the front, looking very embarrassed.

Happy that I had driven the boy off, I went back to reading my book, but a nagging feeling in the back of mind kept me from fully concentrating on it. There was something familiar about that kid, which made no sense. Why would I bother to remember someone so painfully average?

It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I almost dropped my book. The staring kid was Average Joe! Without Goth Girl and that playboy geek Tucker flanking him, he hadn't stuck out to me at all. At least the reason for those glances was clear, now.

"And now it is time to determine your lab partner for the year," said Mr. McGuffin.

I actually did drop my book this time. "What?! Lab partner?!"

"Yes, Miss Winters, everyone in this class will have a lab partner," said Mr. McGuffin. "We will be handling some hazardous chemicals in this course, and having an extra set of eyes during each experiment lowers the risk of a potential accident."

I could only gape like a fish out of water. I added chemistry to the list of classes that were going to be unbearable as Mr. McGuffin walked around with a big bowl full of slips of paper. Each slip had a number on it, and my partner was going to be the person who picked a slip with a number that matched mine. I hesitantly reached into the bowl, mixed the numbers around a bit, and fished out a slip of paper. I unfolded it carefully and read the number written on it.

Four.

It was as good as any other number, I supposed. After all, I wasn't keen on being partnered with anyone. I just hoped that my partner would keep this a strictly businesslike relationship and not pry into my personal life.

When all the numbers were taken, Mr. McGuffin returned to the front of the class and allowed us to find our partners. Everyone but me quickly got up and fervently questioned every other student to see if their numbers matched. Cheers and groans filled the air as friends were either paired together or split apart.

I decided to wait for the chaos to die down before seeking my partner. No need to speak to anyone more than I needed to. My heart thudded in my chest as I wondered who I was going to be shackled to for the year.

"Hey," a voice said shyly.

I looked up into the bright blue eyes of Average Joe. "What do you want?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Are you number four?" he asked, showing me his number.

My mouth went dry. Sure enough, the number four was printed on his slip as clearly as it was on mine. I don't think I hated a number as much as I did in that moment.

I huffed and shoved my number in his face. "Let's get this straight right now. Just because we're partners doesn't mean I'm going to get all buddy-buddy with you or your musketeer friends. If any of you ask anything personal about me, I can't guarantee I won't 'accidentally' spill a little sulfuric acid on you. Got it?"

"G-got it," he gulped.

"Good. I'm Monica Winters," I said, extending my hand.

"Danny Fenton," he said, offering his hand in return.

Looking back, I realized that that handshake was the start of it all. Not just the start of my shaky partnership with Danny Fenton in chemistry, but the first domino in a chain reaction that eventually turned my life upside down.

* * *

><p><strong>LunaClefairy: So um… Hi. I'm not dead. I'm sorry that this hasn't been a new <strong>_**To Bloom Again **_**chapter (I know, I really need to get back to that!), but this dang plot bunny has been bugging me for days. I started watching Danny Phantom, one of my favorite childhood cartoons, again recently, and gosh, I think it's one of those things you grow to love even more as you get older. I appreciate all the silly puns and references now, although there are also some surprisingly disturbing and perverted things in there (I'm looking at you, Desiree, and that near-miss "bad touch" you did to Danny!).**

**At some point, I imagined a character that was petrified of ghosts to the point where it strongly affected her life―the textbook definition of a phobia. I even imagined a whole potential episode plot involving her and her phobia. This character evolved into Monica Winters. I don't think this idea has ever been done before. I know that OCs are generally disliked, but I'm going to try to break the mold and make Monica likeable, balanced, and dynamic. No ghost powers for her, and as you can see, she doesn't even like our heroic trio.**

**This might end up being a bust, in which case I'll take it down, but I'll just put this up for now as a teaser. If my inspiration keeps coming, I'll keep updating. Let me know what you think in a review.**


	2. The Fenton

**The Fenton**

"Hi, honey. How was school?" my mom asked as soon as I entered my house.

"In all honesty? Exactly what I expected," I replied. "In other words, it was awful."

"Oh, Monnie. It couldn't have been _that_ bad."

I scowled. "It _was _that bad. I mean, look at what those kids did to my clothes! I told you this was a bad idea!"

"Monica," Mom said sternly. "I know high school can be tough. But if you want to get into college, this is something you have to do."

"But Mom―"

"No buts. I refuse to homeschool you anymore, young lady."

With a huff, I gave up. "I'll be in my room."

"Clean up a little in there while you're at it!" Mom called after me.

My room was what my mom liked to call "the den of someone who has way too much time on her hands." Almost every inch of the walls was covered with my drawings, and I had three bookshelves filled to the brim with all manner of books. In one corner was my personal computer, which I mostly used for homework or surfing the web. CDs and movies littered the floor around my stereo and TV, but I was too lazy to put them away.

I closed the door behind me and changed out of my stained clothes. I replaced them with a sleeveless olive green top and a pair of black jeans. Then I plopped into my computer chair and signed into the internet. After what happened in chemistry, I wasn't convinced that the number four was innocent anymore, and I wanted to see if I could find proof.

My suspicions were confirmed after searching for a while. Turns out that four is a taboo number in China, much like thirteen is over here. The number four in their language sounds the same as their word for "death". Lovely.

With a sigh, I turned the computer off and went back to reading _The DaVinci Code_ until the aroma of Mom's homemade spaghetti sauce hit my nose. My mouth watered and my stomach growled, causing me to finally check the time. Shoot, three hours could pass in the blink of an eye when I really got into a book. With a sigh, I marked my page and headed downstairs for dinner.

Dinners at my house were usually quiet. Dad's job had him traveling all over for business meetings, so he was rarely home, and Mom always knew what I had done because she had homeschooled me until now. So when Mom started up the whole dinnertime conversation thing, I was caught a little off-guard.

"Honey, you still haven't told me about your school day."

"Mom!" I growled through a mouthful of meatball. "I told you before, it was awful!"

"Honey, I know this is a big change for you, and I want to help you get through this," said Mom. "But I can't help you if you just say 'it was awful'."

"All right, fine…" I groaned, swallowing my food. "Where do I begin? Well, everyone was gossiping about me, the queen bee hates my guts, the friends of said queen bee dumped their food on me because I stood up for myself, P.E. is a pile of garbage, and I have to keep my Chem lab partner from butting into my personal life!"

"Oh, you have a lab partner?"

I resisted the urge to slam my palm into my face. Of course Mom would only hear _that_ part. "Yes. I didn't want a partner, but now I'm stuck with the guy for the rest of the year."

"It's a boy?!" Mom exclaimed excitedly.

"MOM!" I yelled. "He's nothing special and I want nothing to do with him! I'm just putting up with him so I can pass Chem!"

"Calm down, Monnie, I was just teasing," said Mom. "In all seriousness, though, you should get to know this boy. Do you know his name?"

"Um…" Shoot, I had already forgotten. "It was something that started with D, I think. And his last name was Fuh… Feh… Fen-something."

"Fenton?" Mom offered.

"Yeah, that's it!" I exclaimed. "Wait, how do you know that name?"

"It's hard to _not_ know that name around here," said Mom. "After all, the Fentons are famous for being g―er, scientists."

I blinked. "Mom, what were you going to say?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it," she said, giving me a "no more questions" glare. That just made me more curious, but I knew better than to pry. "My point is that you should take advantage of this opportunity. It's time you learned to trust other people."

"Mom, I can't. I've seen what people can do. If one word gets out about my phobia, I'm toast! I'll never be able to show my face in public again!"

"Honey, you have got to stop watching so many cartoons."

"I'm serious!"

"And so am I. All I'm saying is that you should give young Mr. Fenton a chance. Talk to him. Get to know him. Then you can decide if he's trustworthy or not. All right?"

"Yes, Mom," I moaned.

"And if anything else happens, be sure to let me know, okay?"

"Yes, Mom."

There was no way I was actually going to follow through on her suggestions, but she didn't need to know that.

The next day I entered school feeling better prepared, though I still wasn't thrilled. The name calling continued, and one of the popular girls squirted perfume in my eyes during passing period. I ended up late to history because I was forced to rush to the restroom to wash the stuff off.

I was still irritable when lunch rolled around, so I gave everyone who dared get within ten feet of me the evilest glare I could muster. I scarfed down my food as fast as possible so I could get out of there. I probably looked like a rabid animal, but I didn't care as long as people stayed away. After I finished, I retreated to the halls and violently scribbled in my sketchbook until the period ended.

Art lifted my spirits, and P.E. wasn't too bad. I just had to get through chemistry and I would be home free. There was just one problem. Where the heck was Fenton? He was nowhere in sight when the bell rang. I impatiently tapped the point of my pencil on my desk. True, it was only the second day of school and we weren't doing any experiments yet, but a tardy this early in the year was a bad sign in my book. It was possible that he had just gotten lost, but he had been on time yesterday, hadn't he? Then again, I hadn't exactly been paying attention.

Fenton burst into the classroom five minutes late, fervently apologizing. Mr. McGuffin let him off with a warning―after all, us freshmen were still learning our way around the halls―but the class snickered.

I examined Fenton curiously as he took his seat. He did not look good. One of his eyes was swollen, and his arms had newly-formed bruises. This was an interesting development. Average kids do not get beaten up without good reason. Perhaps there was more to Fenton than met the eye. And I didn't need him having an excuse for messing up on labs.

It was decided. I needed to do some recon.

For the next few weeks I observed Fenton from afar at lunch. It wasn't that hard to do―I simply kept my evil glare up and scanned the room every once in a while, so people just thought I was telling them to stay away. It didn't stop Sanchez's minions from picking on me, but it worked well enough. Yes, Paulina was now Sanchez to me; I had made a habit of calling people by their surnames whenever I could to keep relationships impersonal.

Anyway, the source of Fenton's troubles quickly became obvious. The jocks harassed him during every lunch period, especially the blond one who I soon learned was named Dash Baxter. The guy was huge―he towered over Fenton and was about three times as wide. Baxter was on the Casper High football team, and despite his freshman status he had already made a huge name for himself.

I guess the attention got to his head, because like the other popular kids, he was a complete jerk to anyone outside his little circle. Fenton seemed to be his favorite punching bag, though I once spotted Baxter making some nerd do his homework for him. All brawn and no brains; how typical. Normally, I'd ignore an oaf like him, but when Fenton started being late for chemistry on a regular basis, I knew I had to take action.

On the day of our first lab, I held back in the halls and kept an eye out for Fenton. I could not afford for him to be tardy this time, and I had told him as such the day before. Three minutes before class was scheduled to begin, I heard loud footsteps somewhere down the hall, followed by a scream, a slam, and raucous laughter.

"Have fun getting out of there, Fen-turd!" Baxter sneered.

I clenched my fists and growled. That was the last straw. The next time I came across that buffoon, he was going to pay for putting my grade in jeopardy. But first, I had to find Fenton. I hurried down the hall towards where the commotion had taken place, but I found no sign of him. Frustrated, I checked my watch. Two minutes before we would both be considered tardy. What the heck did Baxter do with him?

"This is just great," Fenton's voice echoed from a nearby locker. "Monica's going to kill me!"

I turned to the locker and stared. "Fenton? Is that you? What the heck are you doing in a locker? And how on earth did you fit in there? It's not exactly roomy."

"Monica? Oh man, this is awkward… In order: yes, it's me; Dash shoved me in here; and apparently my body can bend in ways it's not supposed to."

I winced. "Ouch. Here, gimme a sec while I pop that lock."

"What, you're helping me?"

"Don't look into this too deeply!" I snapped as I fished through my backpack. "I just don't want my Chem grade to suffer because you got your sorry butt stuck in a locker! Now, where is that―ah, here we go!"

I found my trusty paperclip and began to jimmy the lock.

"When did you learn how to pick a lock?" asked Fenton.

"You learn a lot of things when you read," I replied. After a few more seconds, I heard a click. "That should do it."

The locker door swung open, revealing Fenton, who was more folded up than an origami crane. I have no idea how he managed to get out of there, but the instant he did, I practically dragged him along with me to chemistry―I didn't trust his running abilities. We made it to class just as the bell rang.

"That…was too close," I panted.

"Mr. Fenton, Miss Winters, glad you could join us," said Mr. McGuffin. "Hurry and take your seats."

"Don't screw this up," I warned Fenton.

He actually wasn't half-bad as a lab partner. He did his share of the work, and all of his comments remained strictly related to the subject matter, although the latter was probably due to my thinly-veiled threats. Either way, maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.

But there was still the matter of Baxter. I had to do something to discourage him from targeting Fenton all the time―or at least on lab days. A direct confrontation was out of the question, as he'd outmuscle me in the blink of an eye. I also couldn't make it obvious that it was me or else I'd draw his wrath as well. I needed a plan of action. I spent the evening plotting ideas, but I didn't hit gold until I saw what Mom had bought for my lunches. It was so simple, yet brilliant.

The next day at lunch, I kept a watchful eye on Baxter. This plan was going to take precise execution to work. When the bell rang, I made my move. Hidden within the chaos of students leaving the cafeteria, I casually dropped a banana peel in Baxter's path.

It worked like a charm. The jock went down, and thanks to his huge body he took half a dozen other students down with him. I resisted the urge to smirk. That was even easier than I thought it would be.

"FENTON!" Baxter roared. I gave a start. This wasn't part of the plan! I could only watch helplessly as Mr. Lancer confronted Fenton and carted him off, ignoring the latter's insistence that he hadn't done anything. What the heck was wrong with this school's faculty? They didn't even have any proof that Fenton was guilty!

I was in a real bind now. Either I could fess up and face the consequences from both Mr. Lancer and Baxter, or keep quiet and let Fenton take the blame for my screw up. No matter what I did, my chemistry grade was in trouble. Ultimately, my desire to avoid attention overpowered my guilty conscience. When I reached my locker, though, I had an unexpected visitor.

"What do you want, Goth Girl?" I asked.

"First of all, it's Sam, not 'Goth Girl'," she said. "And second, I saw that stunt you pulled during lunch. Danny's got enough problems to worry about without being blamed for stuff he didn't do!"

"For the record, I was trying to give the kid a hand," I scoffed. "Things just didn't go according to plan."

"Then why won't you confess? Don't you have any sense of honor?"

"It's not my problem anymore. As long as Fenton doesn't drag my grade down, I could care less what happens to him."

"What?! I can't believe you just said that!"

"Aw, don't worry your pretty little Goth head. I promise I won't do anything bad to him…so long as he plays nice."

"Stay away from him!" yelled Sam.

"I'd love nothing more, but I can't. He's my lab partner in Chem, after all," I replied. "Now then, it's been a pleasure talking with you, but I have to get going. See ya…_Samantha_."

As I walked away, I glanced behind me and saw that Sam was fuming. I must've touched a nerve. As satisfying as that was, I had to admit that I had gotten a little carried away. Way to go, Monica, you've successfully made yourself another enemy.

I brushed the entire incident aside until Chem came around. Fenton walked in all black and blue, and he looked positively miserable. A storm of guilt swirled around in my stomach. No one deserved to get beaten up that bad, especially for something he or she didn't do. But what could I do? The last thing I wanted was more attention.

"Hey, Fenton," I whispered.

"What?"

I swallowed. "You know, if there's, uh, anything you need help with―in this class, I mean―you can ask me about it. The last thing I need is you messing up on a lab because you don't know the material."

He seemed to consider. Then he said, "I'll think about it."

"You'd better."

I knew it didn't come close to making up for what I did, but it was a start. It was still class-related, so there was no danger of my secret being revealed, and it helped loosen the knot of guilt inside me. The only issue was that that Sam girl wasn't going to be happy if we met up outside of class.

I mentally sighed. When had my life gotten so complicated? Oh yeah, when I started going to public school. Graduation couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

><p><strong>LunaClefairy: This ended up shorter than the last chapter, but oh, well. I think this chapter has made it pretty clear that Monica is not your typical OC. She's selfish, calculating, and a little mean-spirited. And she's not half-ghost, unlike most of the OCs in this section (it's not a bad idea; just way overused). But she's not completely heartless, either. I hope I got everyone else in-character; it's something I always worry about when writing.<strong>

**By the way, has anyone else noticed that Danny gets himself stuck in cramped places a lot? I mean, he gets shoved into lockers by Dash, and he's been the victim of more than one Fenton containment device (namely the Fenton Weasel and the Fenton Thermos). Makes you wonder if he's used to his body bending in uncomfortable ways. That made writing the locker-stuffing scene here a lot more fun, and it's my favorite part of the chapter by a landslide.**


	3. The Eyes

**The Eyes**

Detention sucks. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a bald-faced liar. Being forced into detention after school on a Friday is worse. And sitting in detention after school on a Friday with the person that got you there is pretty much unbearable. This was why I kept giving Fenton death glares every time Mr. Lancer wasn't looking.

As to how I got here, I'll have to back up to a bit earlier today. I was minding my own business getting books from my locker when Fenton suddenly approached me.

"Okay, what was that all about the other day?" he asked.

I blinked, genuinely puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"It was you. You're the one who dropped the banana peel that tripped Dash!"

In hindsight, I should have seen this coming. Sam hung out with Fenton all the time, so why the heck wouldn't she snitch on me? I guess I didn't think Fenton had the guts to confront me about it―let's face it, he was pretty wimpy.

"Oh. That," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to lend you a hand."

"Lend me a hand?! All you did was land me in more hot water!"

I huffed. "So, things didn't go exactly the way I thought they would. Big whoop."

"It is a big whoop!" exclaimed Fenton. "Thanks to you, Dash is hounding me more than ever!"

"Hey, Fentonio!" Baxter yelled, as if on cue. "Got yourself a new girlfriend?"

Something inside me snapped. A ret-hot rage flared up through my entire being.

"Girlfriend…?" I hissed under my breath.

"A geek and a freak! It's just too perfect!" laughed Baxter.

"I AM NOT _ANYONE'S_ GIRLFRIEND!" I roared. And with that, I kicked the jock where the sun don't shine.

The whole hallway went silent except for Baxter's pained moaning. Everyone stared at me in disbelief.

"Okay, has no one seriously ever tried that before?" I asked. "It's like, the best way to bring a guy down."

"_Pride and Prejudice_, what's going on here?!" Mr. Lancer suddenly exclaimed.

"Uh oh…" I mumbled.

And that brings me to now: sitting after school in detention with Fenton. He got dragged into this due to being in close proximity to the incident and the fact that no one around liked him. I would've felt sorry for him if it weren't his fault that this happened in the first place!

Okay, I admit Baxter was the true instigator, but if Fenton hadn't halted me at my locker, I wouldn't have been caught up in this mess. Seriously, me Fenton's girlfriend? The very thought made me want to hurl. I had made a vow a long time ago to never crush on anyone but fictional guys, and I intended to keep it.

I channeled my irate feelings into my sketches, which at the moment consisted of numerous doodles of Fenton and Baxter being tormented in a dozen different ways. This whole situation reminded me of why I tried to stay out of other people's lives. Whenever I got involved with anyone, I ended up burned.

Mr. Lancer finally let us go after what felt like an eternity. Once I was out of the man's eyesight, I not-so-subtly smacked Fenton in the back of the head with my sketchbook. Sheesh, in one day our relationship went from tolerable to down the toilet. This was going to make chemistry a heck of a lot harder.

Then there was the matter of how my mom was going to react to this.

"Monica, what's this I hear about you getting into fights at school?" she asked as soon as I got home.

"Mom, I… Look, it's not what you think!"

"Monica, I've told you time and time again: violence is never the answer to your problems."

"I know," I moaned. "I just…lost my temper, y'know? Besides, if it weren't for Fenton, then―"

"Wait a minute, 'Fenton'?" Mom interrupted. "All this time and you still don't know your lab partner's first name?"

Crud. That was a huge slip-up on my part. "It's not that I don't know his name," I admitted sheepishly.

"Then why won't you call him by his given name?" asked Mom. My only response was a soft sigh, which apparently was answer enough for her. "Monica. This 'I hate the world' attitude of yours has got to stop."

"What choice do I have?" I snapped back. "If there's one thing I learned from The Incident five years ago, it's that people can't ever be trusted!"

"Monica―"

"I'm going to my room!"

I stomped up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door closed, locking it behind me. I then collapsed onto my bed and swallowed the growing lump in my throat.

"Mom just doesn't understand," I mumbled to myself. "But how could she? No one could understand. Nobody knows what it's like to be forced to hide part of yourself from everyone or else face ridicule. The only person I can depend on is me."

The weekend passed by in a blur. Mom took plenty of time to scold me for my behavior, but I toned her out. I was going to live my life the way I wanted, not how she told me to live it. So when Monday rolled around, I expected another week of the same old stuff. What I got instead was something far different.

Monday started off normally enough except for the fact that almost everyone was terrified of me. Even Baxter himself backed down when I threatened him with another shot between the legs. Figures the guy was actually a total coward when someone got the spine and smarts to stand up to him. At least this meant no one messed with me anymore. Additionally, Fenton was absent, but I brushed it off as a weekend illness. It wasn't quite cold and flu season yet, but viruses can happen at any time of the year.

On Tuesday, Fenton was back at school. Physically, he looked okay, but he seemed extremely nervous about something. So nervous, in fact, that he either forgot or no longer cared about the fight we had on Friday. His two friends hovered around him almost constantly and at times blocked him from other people's view―including mine. And during chemistry, I heard a loud crash and turned to see that Fenton had somehow ended up under his desk chair. The class laughed, but I was left baffled. Fenton's chair showed no signs of being disturbed or knocked over. It was almost like he had fallen _through_ it. But that couldn't be possible. People can't just phase through things! There had to be some logical explanation for this.

The weirdness continued as time passed. One day when I was observing Fenton I swear he vanished right in front of me. As in poof, gone. I blinked and rubbed my eyes only for him to be there again, and looking very freaked out, to boot. It all happened so fast that I dismissed it as my imagination. I scolded myself for even thinking such a thing. The school's florescent lights must've fried my brain cells.

And every time we had a lab together, Fenton couldn't seem to keep a grip on anything. Whenever I had him hold a test tube or beaker it always ended up shattered on our lab desk. I'd have suspected he was doing it on purpose if it weren't for the fact that he looked terrified every time it happened. I demanded to know what was going on, and he always responded by saying, "It slipped out of my hand." He also had developed the odd habit of hiding his hands behind his back whenever he dropped something. What, did he think he was hiding the evidence or something?

After the thirty-fourth shattered beaker, Mr. McGuffin banned Fenton from holding any fragile school property for life. That meant I would have to handle all the equipment and chemicals while Fenton recorded the data. It seemed like a pretty fair trade-off, although Fenton kept dropping his pencils. At least were able to put our differences aside and cooperate for the period.

Admittedly, I was really curious about what was wrong with Fenton, but I decided not to press the issue. After all, I had no business in his personal life, just as he had no business in mine. Well, I did keep Baxter from harassing him on lab days, but that was it.

So while the things happening to and around Fenton were weird, I decided to accept them as a new normal. Besides, all those weird incidents did help liven up school just a teeny bit. There was nothing quite like an unsolved mystery to bring excitement into your life.

Little did I know, I would get a lot more than just excitement.

It happened on an otherwise ordinary day. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in early October, one of those days where the weather is crisp but not too cold. It was the perfect day to work on my art assignment, which was to create a fall-themed art piece. With my sketchbook in one hand and a big box of colored pencils in the other, I headed for Amity Park's…Amity Park. Yes, the name was stupidly redundant, but it was one of my favorite locations to spend a day drawing.

I sat against my favorite oak tree and sketched out the autumn landscape as kids played and their parents chatted. I smiled fondly as I colored the falling leaves on my paper shades of red, orange, and brown. Drawing was the only time I felt truly myself. It was my way of relieving stress and pent-up emotion in a constructive way. I honestly didn't know how I would live if I didn't have a pencil and a sketchbook.

My picture was coming together beautifully, and the good weather had made me a little drowsy. With the cold winds of winter approaching soon, this was one of my last opportunities for an outdoor nap for the year. So I curled up on the grass, made sure I had a tight grip on my sketchbook, and dozed off.

I woke up a few hours later thanks to my growling stomach. It must've been nearly time for dinner. I was about to head home when I realized something important.

My sketchbook was gone.

I immediately panicked. Those drawings were irreplaceable! Sure, I could make new ones, but they would never be the same. Worse yet, my fall art assignment was due on Monday! I didn't have the time to create another quality piece! I had to find my sketchbook, and fast.

What confused me the most was that someone had actually managed to wrest my sketchbook away while I was sleeping. I was notoriously protective of my sketchbooks and Mom told me I had a death grip on them when I fell asleep holding one. Had Mom lied to me? Had I turned over in my sleep and accidentally dropped it? Or did someone somehow yank it out of my arms without waking me up?

After an hour of fervently questioning everyone in the park, I was directed back to where I started. Somehow, my sketchbook ended up in the branches of the oak tree. I was both annoyed and baffled. How did it get there, and why would someone take it just to put it in a tree?

Deciding to worry about those questions later, I took it upon myself to climb the tree and retrieve my book. I wasn't the best tree-climber, but I made it. I almost cried when my precious sketchbook was back in my arms. The tricky part now was getting back down. The tree branch was sturdy, but it was still ten feet above the ground, so I had to be careful. I was only a foot away from the trunk when I saw something that should not have been there.

A pair of glowing neon green eyes.

A million suppressed memories flashed through my head all at once. I can't escape. Can't get out. They're there wherever I go. Can't move. Can't escape. No one can hear me. And the laughter… The never-ending laughter.

I screamed, and my arm exploded with pain.

The next thing I knew, I found myself in the grass surrounded by people. I glanced at my right arm and saw that it was bent unnaturally. Crud. I must've fallen out of the tree after my mind went blank.

Paramedics arrived within minutes and carted me off to the hospital. Fortunately, the break was clean, meaning that resetting it was simple. Unfortunately, now I was going to be stuck in a cast for eight to ten weeks, and my right arm was my dominant one! How was I going to draw or do homework from now on? I guess I'd have to learn how to write all over again.

Since the break wasn't complex, I was released later that evening. When Mom came to pick me up, she promptly burst into tears, hugged me, and cried, "My baby's safe and sound!"

"Mom! Stop embarrassing me!" I exclaimed. "Besides, it's just a broken arm. I'll be fine!"

"What were you doing climbing trees in the first place?" Mom asked.

"Someone pulled a prank on me by sticking my sketchbook up there," I grumbled.

"Monnie, a sketchbook isn't worth your safety. You should've asked someone to get it down for you."

"That wasn't the problem! I was doing just fine until―"

My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks as I remembered those eyes. They had just been floating there in that tree, bodiless. And they glowed. Normal eyes do not glow, and they are not colored toxic neon green. I clenched my fists and fought off the urge to hyperventilate.

"Sweetie, are you alright?" asked Mom.

"I-I…" What could I say? Even if I told her the truth, there's no way she would believe me. It was worth a shot, though. "When I was up there, I thought I saw…a _ghost_."

As expected, my mom sighed in an exasperated way. "Honey, we've been through this discussion before. _Ghosts do not exist._"

"But I swear I didn't imagine it this time!" I cried. "It was real! And it was staring at me!"

"Monica! Pull yourself together!" Mom scolded. "This whole experience has been hard on you, and I'm sure your mind is just exhausted. You should come home, eat a good meal, and get a good night's sleep. I'm sure you'll feel much better afterwards."

I sighed in defeat. "Yes, Mom."

Mom had made chicken pot pie for dinner―my favorite. It was hard to eat using only my left hand, but at least the pie was soft enough to be broken apart with only a fork. After that, Mom sent me right to bed, but I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw those freaky glowing eyes. I would've curled up in the fetal position if my arm wasn't in a cast. As it was, I could only clutch my left hand to my chest and pray I wouldn't see the ghost again.

* * *

><p><strong>LunaClefairy: If there's one thing that bothers me a bit about Danny Phantom, it's that the show's continuity is kind of odd. The early episodes of the show take place in the fall, if the orange coloring of the trees is anything to go by. But "Prisoners of Love" occurs in May because of the date of Jack and Maddie's anniversary. Then in the very next episode the trees are orange again, meaning its fall again! Even more confusing is that in "Memory Blank" apparently only a few months have passed since Danny's accident, yet for the aforementioned events to all be true more than a year must have passed already. What the heck, guys?! Don't you have any consistency?! It's not a huge deal as far as the show goes, but it's made writing this fic a lot more complicated. So I'll probably end up taking a few creative liberties as time goes on. <strong>

**As for this chapter, I was always a little curious about the month between Danny's accident and "Mystery Meat". I know pretty much everyone in the show is a little stupid and can't put two and two together when it comes to Danny Phantom, but I wondered if someone other than Danny's friends would have noticed some of the things that resulted from his ghost powers acting up. Especially when I remembered that line in the first episode about Danny being banned for life from handling fragile school property after dropping thirty-four beakers. That line in particular was actually why I made Monica Danny's chemistry lab partner.**

**I'm sure some of you are a little curious about the incident in the park, but it's something that will be explained eventually. Until then, feel free to speculate.**


	4. The Dance

**The Dance**

As I expected, going to school with a broken arm was not fun. It made taking notes a nightmare, and I cringed at my barely legible left-handed writing. And drawing? Forget about it. I wanted to cry at my inability to make anything other than scribbles. Luckily, my teachers understood my problem and made accommodations, but that didn't make me feel much better. The only good thing was that my injury allowed me to sit out of almost everything in P.E. Every cloud has a silver lining, I guess.

When I walked into chemistry, Fenton took one look at me before gaining an expression akin to that of a kicked puppy. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he looked like he blamed himself for what happened to me.

"What's with that face, Fenton?" I asked.

"Um…" He shifted uneasily. "It's just…your arm. It looks painful."

"What, this? Pfft, this is no big deal," I scoffed. "I'm on pain medicine, and now that the bones have been set back in place, it doesn't hurt as much. The only issue is that I can't use my right arm for anything until it heals."

"Ah. Right."

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. Although this cast is going to make doing labs tricky. If only a certain someone hadn't gotten banned from holding lab equipment thanks to a sudden case of butterfingers."

"Hey!" he yelled. I snickered. Teasing Fenton was surprisingly amusing. I could get used to this.

A week later, I had adjusted to my injury and things had basically gone back to normal. Or so I thought, until lunch came around. There was a huge banner over the kitchen that read, "This Week: Ultra Recyclo-Vegetarian", and the lunch lady was serving dirt and grass on bread. Ew. I was once again grateful that I always packed my own lunch.

I didn't get the whole thing with the ultra-recyclo vegetarian diet. They were basically vegans, just with a much longer title. Manson―yes, I finally learned Sam's surname―was one of them, and I heard her say vegan was "too mainstream" or something like that. Doubtless this menu change was her doing.

I quietly ate my lunch by myself while doing my usual people-watching. Mr. Lancer approached Manson and thanked her for suggesting the menu change, though he was suspiciously cleaning his teeth with a toothpick. Well, at least I knew where all the meat went, now.

After Mr. Lancer left, Baxter hurled a literal mud pie into the back of Fenton's head and blamed him for the menu change just because he was close to Manson. And after Baxter tried to force Fenton to eat the mud, the whole cafeteria erupted into a massive food fight―or garbage fight, as Fenton called it.

I sighed as mud and grass was slung all over the place. That was my cue to get out. It's not like I could join in, and I didn't want mud in my hair. _Oops, too late,_ I thought as a mud pie splattered on the side of my face. With lunchbox in hand, I exited the cafeteria.

I washed the mud off in the girl's restroom, a task made more difficult since I had only one working arm. It again made me wish I hadn't broken my arm in the first place. I sighed, supposing it could have been worse.

When I exited the restroom, I noticed that all the lights in the hallway were out. The lights in the restroom were working just fine, though, so it couldn't have been a blackout. What on earth could have happened?

All of a sudden, dozens of meat dishes flew past me. That's right, flew, as in ignoring all the laws of gravity. Hotdogs, hamburgers, steak, fish―you name it, it was there. My eyes grew wider and wider, and I began to tremble. No… No, this couldn't be happening!

I shrieked and dove back into the girl's restroom. My heart was racing, my face was slick with sweat, and my knees would not stop shaking. The school was haunted, and I was trapped in the middle of it! What was I going to do? I couldn't stay in the restroom forever, and even if I could, those ghosts were going to find me sooner or later!

A few minutes later, the noise outside died down. Torn between curiosity and terror, I cracked open the restroom door and took a peak. It was dead quiet. No sign of any more flying meat. The lights were even back on. It seemed safe enough to leave, but I still checked every corner for any ghosts that had decided to remain hidden.

The bell then rang, signaling the end of lunch. I had not eaten all of my lunch, but I had lost my appetite. Students flooded the halls, all at least partially covered with dirt and grass. Wow, if the students looked like this, I couldn't imagine how the cafeteria fared. Whoever was stuck cleaning that up was in for a rough time.

To my relief, the rest of the afternoon was free of paranormal activity. Well, Fenton was unusually on-edge during Chem, but I brushed that off as a result of him and Foley facing detention for the garbage fight. Also, Manson was missing, but that could have been due to any number of reasons.

The next morning, I hoped for a return to normalcy. The instant I arrived at school, however, my hopes were dashed.

"You…have got…to be kidding me."

The school grounds had been split into two distinct areas. On one side, there was a massive meat protest going on, being led by Foley. On the other, all the hippies, tree-huggers, and vegans had joined with Manson, shouting "Veggies now! Veggies forever!"

The only person I saw who hadn't picked a side was Fenton, and he looked as disturbed as I felt. Wow, we actually agreed on something outside of class. The world must be ending. I approached him and asked, "Are your friends always this nuts?"

"Only when it comes to their diets," he grumbled. At that moment, Foley and Manson came up to us, both looking ticked. As I suspected, the two of them were responsible for putting together the protests, and they both had their own dietary reasons for how they got the protests up so fast.

"Don't you think this is a little extreme?" asked Fenton.

"No choice, buddy," said Foley. "You're either with me―"

"―or against him!" Manson finished.

"SO WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?!" they both yelled.

"Shut up, both of you!" I snapped, and if I had two working arms I would've clobbered the nimrods. "Can't you just accept that people will eat whatever they want to eat?"

"YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!" they bellowed at me. Well, at least they agreed on that much.

Our pleasant conversation was brought to an abrupt end when a mysterious wind whipped up, and a wicked cackle filled the air. My eyes bulged as a wave of terror overtook me. No, not again! If I had a panic attack now, that was it!

"I… I've gotta go!" I squeaked, unable to completely eliminate the fear in my voice. A loud crash rang out, and all the meat from the meat truck formed together into a giant ghostly meat monster!

"IT'S LUNCHTIME!" the monster roared, which sent the whole crowd fleeing in terror. Well, the good news was that at least now I could blend in! Fear overtook me, and I screamed and ran for my life. My stupid cast and sling slowed me down, but I was able to take shelter inside the school. I gasped for breath as the earth shook outside. Who was I kidding? The school was doomed!

After five minutes passed and the building was still standing, I began to wonder what was taking the ghost so long. I took a peek out the window, and…was that a fly buzzing around that meat golem's head? No, on closer inspection, it was…another ghost! I gasped and pressed my back against a wall. Where on earth were all these ghosts coming from? I prayed they would go back to wherever they came from, or at least find someplace else to haunt.

Ultimately, the school was not destroyed, and both of the ghosts vanished. However, meat coated every inch of the school grounds, which forced classes to be canceled for the day. In addition, Fenton and his buddies were in charge of cleaning everything up because of the garbage fight the day before and the fact that they somehow slipped out of Mr. Lancer's office unseen even though Baxter was guarding the door.

I trudged home, feeling lucky to be alive. I mumbled to Mom that school had been canceled because something came up, knowing that she wouldn't believe me if I told her the reason. I then plopped on my bed and pulled out my sketchbook. It was times like these that made me wish I could use my right arm. As it was now, I could only make shaky doodles that I was ashamed to admit were my work.

"Why can't I have a normal life?" I mumbled.

The school's lunch menu returned to normal the next day, much to Manson's chagrin, and a few days after that, the entire meat incident was forgotten thanks to the big school dance coming up. Foley, ever the playboy, asked every girl in the school to go to the dance with him, but all of them shot him down. Including me. Social gatherings of any sort were not my thing, and it's not like I was in the condition to dance anyway.

Mom tried her hardest to convince me to go. She cried things like, "But it's your first formal dance ever!" and "I already bought you the most adorable dress!" but my mind was made up. Besides, I hated formal wear, especially dresses. They were way too confining and uncomfortable.

The day before the dance, lunch was held outside so the cafeteria could be prepared for the big event. As always, I sat by myself. Foley was still trying and failing to get a date, but he finally gave up and sat beside his friends to sulk.

I chuckled and bit into my sandwich. Fenton and his friends made such great lunchtime entertainment. That's why I always made a habit of seeing what they were up to every lunch period.

Without warning, both Fenton and Foley gained dreamy, slack-jawed expressions, much to Manson's annoyance. I sighed. Good ol' Sanchez and her ability to draw the eye of every male within three hundred feet. Heck, boys sometimes got into accidents because they were watching her and not where they were going.

"Pauliiiiiiinaaaa," the boys sighed dreamily.

"Please, Paulina? Girls like her are a dime a dozen!" snapped Manson. I noticed she gave me a particularly nasty glare as she said this. I frowned. She wasn't seriously putting me on the same level as that bimbo, was she?

Foley and Fenton dug into their pockets and pulled out what I assumed was their spare change. Manson laughed sarcastically and remarked that they shouldn't judge a book by its cover, to which Foley responded by telling Fenton to "Go to that library and check out that book!"

"I can't!" Fenton protested. "I get weak-kneed when I try to talk to cute girls!"

I felt a sudden, unexpected bristle of indignation. I'd known for a long time that I wasn't cute, but having it said out loud in such an indirect, off-handed way ticked me off a little. I reminded myself that Fenton had been my lab partner for a while now and thus was used to talking to me, and that he probably wasn't thinking when he opened his mouth.

Manson was similarly offended by Fenton's comment and shoved the poor sap towards Sanchez. He then made a complete fool of himself while trying to hit on the Latina. Not only did he fall on his face, but his pants fell down as well, revealing his polka dot boxers to everyone around. I couldn't suppress the snickers that emerged from my throat. It was like something straight out of a children's cartoon!

Sanchez and Manson then had a bit of a face off, with the latter indirectly calling the former shallow before dragging Fenton away. She didn't even let him pull his pants up. Some friend she was. It made me glad I didn't have any friends.

"Wow, Fenton, that was quite a show you made at lunch today," I said later that day in chemistry.

"Shut up," he grumbled.

"But seriously, next time you try to flirt with a girl, be sure to wear a belt. I must say, though, those boxers were pretty cute. I thought they only sold those to like, grade schoolers."

Fenton turned bright red and looked like he wanted to disappear into his seat. I had had my fun, so I left him alone. Two seconds later, a loud crash rang out and Fenton was under his desk chair again. I still couldn't figure out how he did that without moving his chair.

The next day, however, Fenton was singing a very different tune. He was abnormally cheerful and practically bursting with excitement. I asked him what the heck he was so darn happy about, because it was starting to affect his work.

"I asked Paulina to the dance, and she said YES!" he exclaimed.

"You're kidding!" I said.

"Why would I kid about something like this?" he asked me. "I mean, this is too awesome! I've actually got a date!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" I snapped. "Shut up already! We've got work to do!"

Something about this situation stunk, and it wasn't the acetone I was using to clean the beakers. I knew Sanchez's type, and she would never go out with someone like Fenton unless she had some ulterior motive. She was either using him for something or was planning to humiliate him. Either way, Fenton was going to end up dumped, and the emotional toll from that would doubtlessly affect his work and thus, my grade. I had no choice but to keep an eye on Sanchez, and that meant one thing.

"Mom?" I called when I got home.

"What is it sweetie?"

"I…changed my mind. I've decided I'm going to the dance after all."

Mom gasped and enveloped me in a tight hug. "Oh, I'm so proud of you, Monnie! I promise you that you won't regret this!"

"I already am regretting this," I grumbled. "Mom, let go of me! You're hurting my arm!"

She finally did let me go, and gave me a couple of hours of free time before it was time for her to make me over. I shocked her by saying I was going to go to the mall. I normally hate the mall and only go there when a big art sale is being held, but at the moment I had no choice. I had to figure out what Sanchez was up to, and where else would a teenage bimbo be on a Friday afternoon?

Finding Sanchez turned out to be more difficult than I anticipated. There were simply too many different clothing stores to check, and I wasn't exactly up to date with latest the fashion trends. I was beginning to think that this wasn't such a good idea, and that thought was solidified when I started hearing weird things. It sounded like someone or something was roaring elsewhere in the mall. I firmly told myself I was imagining it. I was through with ghosts.

When I neared the food court, I heard the sound of a girl screaming. Then a loud thud rang out, making the whole area shake, and something hit me on the head. After massaging my new bump, I glared at the offending object. It was a golden choker with an odd green amulet in it. I wasn't into jewelry, but I had to admit it was sort of pretty. It also looked very valuable.

"I wonder who this belongs to," I muttered to myself as I picked it up_._ "Doesn't seem right that someone would just drop it."

"Hey!" a familiar accented voice yelled. "What're you doing with my amulet, freak?"

So, the necklace belonged to Sanchez. That changed a thing or two. "Oh, is this yours? Haven't you heard of finders keepers losers weepers? Because now I'm the finder and you're the loser."

"Give that back!" Sanchez demanded.

I stuck my tongue out at her. "You'll have to catch me first, Slow-chez!"

I ran out of that mall faster than an Olympic sprinter in spite of my injury. It felt good running and knowing that I couldn't be caught. And in the process, I knocked Sanchez down a peg. All in all, it was a pretty good day.

My good mood was cut short when I got home. It was time for my makeover, and Mom pulled out all the stops. She managed to get me in a red strapless dress that went down to my knees, which of course also meant I had to wear a strapless bra. She also made me wear pantyhose and red high heels. Next, she played with my long hair and fashioned it into a bun, which was a long and painful process. Finally, she went crazy with makeup, throwing on blush, lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, and so on. When she finally finished, I barely recognized my reflection as myself.

"You look beautiful, sweetie," said Mom.

"I feel like crud," I grumbled.

"Don't be like that, Monnie," Mom cooed. "You're going to have a wonderful time."

"I can't dance with a broken arm, Mom."

"But you're still going despite that, and that's something to proud of. Here. I have one last thing for you." She clasped the choker I stole from Sanchez around my neck. "And you said you had no fashion sense. This necklace suits you perfectly. Look, it brings out your eyes! Where'd you get it from, anyway?"

"The mall," I answered. "Don't remember the store."

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind the next time I go shopping," said Mom. "Now, are you ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," I muttered.

The dance ended up being different than I expected for two big reasons. First, Mr. Lancer constantly roamed around spouting lines from his book, _How to Sound Hip for the Unhip_. It took a great amount of restraint on my part to not burst out laughing at him. The other major thing that differed from my expectations was that two of the chaperones were wearing skintight jumpsuits. From the gossip spreading around the room, these two were Fenton's parents, and they always dressed like that. Now it made sense why Fenton was made fun of; his parents were total wackos. It also explained Mom's reluctance to tell me their occupation.

I spent my time hovering around the various snack and drink tables, keeping close tabs on Fenton and Sanchez while trying to remain subtle about it. Unfortunately, my cast made me stick out like a sore thumb, and people kept saying things like, "Why's the freaky cripple at the dance?"

I ignored them and sipped my punch. Sanchez hadn't done anything major yet, but Fenton was a nervous wreck. He kept glancing between me, Sanchez, and his parents. What was his problem? I supposed it could have been first date jitters, but then why would he be looking at me? Maybe he had noticed me spying. I supposed it wouldn't hurt to lay low for just a bit.

I sat back and listened to the music, quietly singing along to the songs I knew. Aside from the uncomfortable attire, this dance wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I was about to go looking for Fenton and Sanchez again when Fenton suddenly approached me.

"'Sup, Fenton?" I greeted. "I thought you were busy having a good time with Sanchez."

"Actually, um―"

"Ooooh, you aren't cheating on your first date, are you?"

"No, I―"

"I never thought you to be that type of person, Fenton. Then again, there are plenty of girls who love the bad boy type. Maybe you should make a new image for yourself."

"WOULD YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME?!" he yelled.

"Okay, okay, chill. I was just messing with you," I said. "You know, you get your feathers ruffled way too easily. This is supposed to be a fun time."

"Look, you know that amulet you're wearing?" asked Fenton.

"Oh, this?" I touched my necklace. "Yeah, I already know it belongs to Sanchez, but she just happened to lose it, so I picked it up. I wasn't planning on wearing it, but Mom said it matched my eyes. What do you think?"

"I _think_ you should take that off," he gritted.

"Oh, how cute. You think you're the boss of me? We're not in class, Fenton. I'll do whatever the heck I want with my stuff. Besides, it's a little hard to take off a necklace when you can only use one hand."

Fenton looked ready to retort until he spotted Mr. Lancer approaching his parents. He panicked, said he'd be right back, and then ran off somewhere. I scoffed and served myself another punch. Fenton was such a weirdo, and judging from how his parents dressed, it wasn't too hard to figure out why.

I soon felt the results of drinking all that punch and made a beeline for the girls' restroom. I relieved myself, washed my hands, and then removed my stupid high heels. The things were pinching my feet like crazy, and it hurt to walk in them! How could some girls wear them on a daily basis?

It soon occurred to me that I was no longer alone. "Oh hey, Sanchez. How's the date going?"

"Just fine, no thanks to you," she spat. "What I would like to know is what you are doing here wearing _my_ amulet!"

"It was my mom's idea. Humiliating you is just a bonus," I stated as I put my shoes back on.

"Yeah? Well too bad for you, because I never liked that stupid thing in the first place! I was just using it to lure that boy away from his Goth geek!"

Hook, line, and sinker. "You blab too much, Sanchez. Not that you needed to. I knew the instant I heard you were going out with Fenton that you were using him for something. But I swear that if you break his heart, I'll make you regret it."

"Well, I wasn't expecting this!" exclaimed Sanchez. "I thought Danny was going out with that Goth nobody, but I never expected _you_ would have your eyes on him!"

"That's not what it is!" I growled, and I surprised myself at how animalistic I sounded. "I don't even like Fenton! I just don't want you ruining his emotional state because he has a direct impact on my Chem grade!"

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. In the meantime, I'll be dating your _crush_."

I almost physically felt my temper snap. I vaguely noticed a strange glowing from around my neck, but I was too angry to care.

"He. Is. Not. My. CRUSH!" I roared. Rage and primal instinct overwhelmed me, and then everything went black.

_The pretty girl took one look at me and fainted. I swatted her away; she wasn't worth my time, and my right foreleg was still injured. I wanted nothing more than to destroy everything in sight. I burst out of the building and took to the skies, intending to incinerate the entire structure. Before I could unleash my fire breath, though, a tremendous force knocked me out of the air. I smashed into a grassy field and growled. Who was the insolent whelp who dared attack me?_

_A boy with white hair landed near me. He gave me a serious look and yelled, "Calm down, Monica! You don't really want to do this!" _

_This boy was strange. He wasn't afraid of me, in spite of the fact I was much larger and more powerful. His voice had an odd echo to it as well. Then I noticed that his eyes were a strange shade of green, similar to neon lights. A shade of green that seemed oddly familiar._

_It suddenly hit me. "GHOST!" I cried, and I took off flying. The fear was overpowering, and all I wanted to do was run, run, run! My anger was still there, for sure, but it was eclipsed by this all-encompassing fear. The ghost boy was faster than I thought, though, and he caught up to me._

"_Monica, wait!" he cried._

"_LEAVE ME ALONE!" I screamed as I swatted him away with my tail._

_I resumed my flight, but then something snagged around my neck! It was a…fishing line? I tried to break free, but it was sturdier than a steel cable!_

"_The Fenton Fisher!" the ghost boy exclaimed, holding up a fishing rod. "It can catch ghosts __**and**__ dragon ghosts! Way to go, Dad!" He flew around my body over and over until I was too tied up to move. Unable to fly anymore, I plummeted to the ground. I whimpered and struggled to get free, but to no avail. Then the ghost boy snatched the amulet from my neck, and my vision began to fade._

I woke up lying on the ground outside. My head was spinning, and my heart was pounding like I had just run a marathon.

"What just happened?" I asked groggily.

"Monica, are you all right?"

I looked up. "Fenton? What are you doing out here? And how did we get this far away from the school?"

"Let's just say you had a roaring time at the dance," he answered.

"If you say so," I grumbled as I stood up. I touched my neck. "Hey, where'd that amulet go?"

"Lost in the chaos."

"Oh. Too bad. My mom really liked that thing." I paused and glanced at my watch. "Well, it's getting late, so I guess I'll just head home."

"Wait," said Fenton.

"What?" I asked.

"Mind if I walk you home?"

I blinked in bewilderment. "When did you turn into such a gentleman?"

"Hey, at this time of night, who knows what kind of things could be lurking the streets?"

I chuckled. "All right, fine. I'll humor you."

I had to show him the way because he'd never been to my house before. And one time he looked panicked, said he spotted something weird, and ran off. I rolled my eyes at his odd behavior, but I still waited for him.

"So, what was it?" I asked when Fenton came huffing back.

"Nothing big, but I took care of it," he replied.

"You are such a weirdo," I said.

It was ten at night when we reached my house. Mom practically exploded in excitement when she opened the door.

"Monnie! You got a boy to walk you home?" she exclaimed. My face flushed crimson.

"MOM! Don't call me that in front of other people!" I screeched.

"'Monnie'?" Fenton repeated, barely stifling his laugher. I punched him in the head for his cheek.

"If you ever call me Monnie at school, I swear I will ruin you," I hissed.

"Monica, be nice," Mom chided. "Anyway, thank you for escorting my daughter home, young man. And you are…?"

"Danny. Danny Fenton."

"Ah, so you're Monica's lab partner!" Mom exclaimed, sounding delighted. "Thank you for looking after my daughter. I know she can be a little gruff, but she's really a nice girl."

"Mom, can you stop now?" I gritted.

"Just one more thing," said Mom. "Danny, just so you know, you're always welcome here. If you need anything, just call or drop by." And just like that, Mom scribbled out our address and phone number for him! Could this get any more embarrassing?

Fenton weakly thanked Mom before he left, and then Mom gushed about how proud she was of me and how far I had come. I ignored her and instead thought about everything had happened the whole evening. Mom had made keeping my secret about a hundred times harder by giving out my personal info. Not only that, I had gotten a little too friendly with Fenton on that walk home. I was going to have to be even more careful from here on out, especially since after Sanchez's incorrect assumption that I had a crush on the guy. Um, ew, he is so not my type.

The thought of that reminded me of how I couldn't remember a huge chunk of the night. After I got mad at Sanchez for making such a ridiculous assumption, everything just went black until I woke up half a mile away from school. No matter how I looked at it or how much Fenton had tried to brush it off, that was very suspicious, and I couldn't help but suspect that it had to do with paranormal activity.

Even though the events that took place during my blackout were lost to me, there were two things I did remember. I remembered being overcome with terror, a feeling that only happened when my phobia acted up. And second, the image that caused that terror still remained in my mind.

Shocking white hair. Black skintight jumpsuit. And a pair of glowing neon green eyes I could never forget. It was a ghost boy, the very same ghost who caused me to fall out of that tree nearly two weeks ago, and though I prayed it wouldn't be the case, I had a feeling I had not seen the last of him.

* * *

><p><strong>LunaClefairy: Shoot, this chapter ended up a lot longer than I thought. I really hope I'm not forcing anything, here. I don't want to drive people off. I'm not planning on romance being a forefront in this story, though there will be some allusions to it. I haven't even decided a pairing yet. I'm sure I'll figure it out as I write, though.<strong>

**Also, I'll have you know that I personally don't hate Sam. I do think she has moments where she's just as shallow as Paulina (i.e. hating popular things just because they are popular), but I don't think she's a bad character. She's just mostly presented in a bad light here because Monica and Sam do not like each other.**

**I like what I did with the ghost dragon here. The episode does state that the Amulet of Aragon reacts to not only anger but also extreme emotional duress. So I had a bit of fun incorporating Monica's phobia into that.**


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